


Jane Doe

by lanayrusea



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Gen, Light Angst, but i figured i'd include them anyway, jane is mostly background stuff, ned's there but he doesn't talk, spoilers up through amnesty 14
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 09:33:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19697830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanayrusea/pseuds/lanayrusea
Summary: She saved both their lives last month at the water park, not to mention the whole town’s, facing up against a monster designed—if you believe Mama—to ruin her. But here they sit, slouching around Ned’s sickbed, Duck holding an ice pack to the back of his head, after she nearly served three people their premature death-by-Pizza-Hut on a greasy tin platter. He isn’t placing any bets on her yet.ButChristif she doesn’t look just like Jane.





	Jane Doe

**Author's Note:**

> very short, but hopefully you will like it!! again, spoilers for episode 14.

Aubrey doesn’t look anything like Jane. The hair, the face shape, the eyes, the fashion—Christ, his sister’s got probably half a foot on Lady Flame here. They walk different, too. Aubrey walks like she’s never _had_ to walk if she didn’t want to, like the breeze could pick her up and carry her anywhere if she asked. Jane walks like she gave up asking and invested in a good pair of sneakers a long time ago. He can tell by the sounds, whether the footsteps are aware of themselves or not. There’s something else about Aubrey: she will learn and learn and learn and never figure out how to be one of the many. She doesn’t believe the many even exists—she carts around a rabbit with a PhD, for God’s sake. Someone like that is never going to hear their own footsteps.

Whether that’s for better or worse has yet to be seen. She saved both their lives last month at the water park, not to mention the whole town’s, facing up against a monster designed—if you believe Mama—to ruin her. But here they sit, slouching around Ned’s sickbed, Duck holding an ice pack to the back of his head, after she nearly served three people their premature death-by-Pizza-Hut on a greasy tin platter. He isn’t placing any bets on her yet.

But _Christ_ if she doesn’t look just like Jane.

“I hate it in here,” Mama says, rubbing her neck. “Makes me jumpy.”

“Makes _me_ jumpy when you jailbreak with a broken ankle,” Jake says. He’s standing in a corner leaned back against the wall, board at his feet. His fingers are tapping on his arm.

“I was fine,” she says.

“Barclay near lost his marbles when he saw you.”

“Barclay should keep a better eye on his marbles.”

“Duck, don’t you think we as the Pine Guard should operate with a higher concern for Barclay’s marbles?”

Duck looks up from the floor. “What?”

Jake waves a hand. “Ned would agree with me.”

They fall silent. Trying to fill space like this is hard work. Duck doesn’t usually get as far as trying. Aubrey left for the bathroom ten minutes ago.

“Cool stunt, at least,” Jake says, after a while. “Knocked himself out in style.”

“If he can hear you right now, that’ll go straight to his head.”

“Well, I’m sorry, Miss ‘Never Done a Reckless Thing in My Life’ Mama.”

She almost laughs. “Do as I say and not as I do.”

“That’s fine. I got Ned F. Chicane for a role model instead.”

Duck’s ice pack has gone warm. He drops it on the table by the bed.

“You need a colder one?” Mama says immediately. “Jake, go find—”

“I’m alright,” he says. “Me and Leo, barely scratched, other than the property damage. Incredible shit.”

“Incredible shit,” she echoes, and leans back in her chair.

There’s another stretch of quiet, longer this time. Ned’s machines beep softly. The sun is setting directly in Duck’s eyes.

“Been a little while, hasn’t she?” Mama says.

Involuntarily Duck looks at Jake, still fidgeting nervously, whose expression says, _I don’t wanna touch that._ Mama didn’t see Aubrey back outside the general store, collapsed in the snow, mouthing soft nonsense as she stared at Duck and Leo with glassy doe eyes. Shock doesn’t look good on anyone, but on Aubrey it looked downright eerie.

“Duck?” says Mama.

“Yeah,” says Duck, getting to his feet. “I’ll find her.”

He doesn’t intend on dragging her back by the hair if she’s determined to stay out, but it’ll be good to know where she is. She could’ve passed out in the bathroom. Doesn’t seem that likely, but it’s possible.

The nearest women’s restroom is by a payphone, and a woman waiting for a call to go through eyes Duck suspiciously as he approaches. He ignores her and grabs the door handle.

“Oh!” says the woman. “ _Sir_ —”

He flashes his ranger badge fast enough that it doesn’t matter what’s on it, and she retreats back into the phone booth, still startled at his audacity. He pushes open the bathroom door.

“Aubrey?” he calls. “You in there?”

Beat.

Her voice says, “Yes.”

“Alright,” he says, “just checking. No rush.”

“Hold on,” she says. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Really, kid, you’re not missing anything.”

“No, I’m coming out.”

A very bored sliver of Duck’s brain says, _You don’t need to come out, we know_ , but he decides to file the joke away for a more appropriate occasion. “Alright,” he says, “if you’re sure.”

He shuts the door and goes to sit on a bench opposite the payphone. The woman on the phone manages to watch him out of the corner of her eye while taking down info from the other end in a little notepad. A multitasker. Duck picks at a loose thread on his jacket for a minute before Aubrey emerges from the bathroom, cheeks flushed like she’s washed her face and rubbed it hard.

“Sorry,” she says. “Lost track of time.”

He shakes his head. “We ain’t going nowhere, not till Chicane gets his beauty sleep.”

Her face darkens—wrong thing to say.

“Come on,” he says, cracking a grin and hoping it doesn’t come off as _panicked_. “You know he’s just faking it.”

She forces a smile, then looks down. When she leans all the way back against the bench, her boots don’t touch the floor. The woman on the payphone keeps stealing glances at her getup.

“I thought I was getting better,” Aubrey says. “I thought this would stop.”

Duck doesn’t know what she wants him to say. “You know I fell off my bike last week? I feel like biking’s a trifle easier than magic tricks, and I got a few years on you too.”

Another wrong move. She glares at him. “Ned’s in the hospital.”

“Aubrey, _I_ told him to fly into the goddamn Pizza Hut sign.”

“Because I knocked it over.”

“It was already falling! That was the whole point. Three people were going to die and _none_ of them did.”

She gets this torn look on her face then, an acknowledgement and a protest in one, a combination of _Aubrey, you’re being stupid_ and _Duck, you’re being a pain_. She looks like his sister. “It’s more complicated than that.”

He shrugs. “Simplify it.”

She does. “I make bad things happen.”

The woman at the payphone is openly staring. Duck says, “That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s the truth, isn’t it?” she says. She sounds defensive, even though she’s not defending herself. “I have no family. I live one step removed from being just another Jane Doe, caught in a tragic fire, no survivors, cause unknown. I _killed_ you.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Schrödinger’s duck?”

She laughs once and turns away. “Fuck this.”

They don’t say anything for a while, and the woman on the phone has no choice but to return to her call and pretend to care about it. She acts like some sort of go-between, someone’s insurance agent or a reporter no one asked for. Distantly Duck wonders if Ned has health insurance. Ultimately not his problem, but still, a worrying thought.

Something touches his shoulder and he starts. But it’s only Aubrey, leaning against him with her arms crossed and her face scrunched up like if she relaxes she’ll cry.

“Aw, kid,” he says. “You really don’t think the stunt with the jetpack was sweet?”

She chews her tongue. “It was pretty sweet.”

“You know it.” He elbows her lightly. “In a couple days this’ll all be just a grand tale to tell Mr. Bonkers.”

“How many times do I have to say it? He didn’t get the doctorate for nothing.”

“I’m yanking your proverbial chain, Lady Flame.”

“It’s no chain-yanking matter. He’s still in debt!”

Duck laughs at this, loud enough that the payphone woman turns around. Aubrey smiles then, a real smile, and crosses an ankle over the opposite knee in a self-satisfied way. She looks like Jane, and she doesn’t. She looks like the kind of person who carts around a rabbit with a PhD.

Her smile fades and she looks away, but Duck can feel now that she’s not going to let this have her. He knows Aubrey wants more than this, more than hospital rooms and burn gauze and—God forbid—various architectural fiascos. She _wants_ the magic. Well, that makes one of them.

“Let’s go back,” she says, and lifts her head from his shoulder. “Coolice and me go together like hot and cold. We’re not allowed to be separated for too long.”

“Says who?” says Duck, standing up.

“The laws of thermodynamics, I think. Dr. Bonkers can explain it better.”

“I’ll ask him.”

“You know, that lady at the phone is being really creepy.”

Duck glances at her, chatting away animatedly. It’s a good act. “She resents me for going into the women’s bathroom.”

As they turn the corner Aubrey looks at the lady over her shoulder, sticks her tongue out and flips her the bird. The lady blanches, cut off mid-word, and Duck stuffs his fist in his mouth before he starts wheezing from laughter and a nurse has to come ask if he’s having an asthma attack. Aubrey grins a shit-eating grin and rolls her shoulders.

She says, “I feel better.”

“Me too, kid,” he says hoarsely, “but if we get kicked out of this f-fucking hospital, I swear to God you’re exp—”

He dissolves again.

“I’m explaining it to Mama, I know,” she says, and pats his arm. “But Ned will understand.”

“Aubrey,” Duck says, wiping his eyes, “someday, someday, you gotta meet my baby sister.”

**Author's Note:**

> read the [spiritual prequel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20125948) and [spiritual sequel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19870891)!


End file.
